The Princess's Horror Story
by Miles Above My Head
Summary: What's a nightmare without a twist? Natara's been having a lot of those ever since her ex-boyfriend nearly murdered her, Blaise, and her partner Mal Fallon. One shot. Review please!


_**ONE SHOT.**_

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><p>What was a fairytale ending without your prince?<p>

Natara smiled; it was the happiest day of her life. She'd always dreamt of this day. Her wedding day. Everything was perfect. She had a fantasy-worthy puffy white dress, her whole family was there (even her dad), and she was marrying the love of her life. She was absolutely positive she loved him. Yes, everything was perfect. Except for that one little detail, but hey, everything has to have a _hamartia_, right?

There was no groom.

Where was Mal?

Natara's head shot up as her phone vibrated on the coffee table next to her. Without checking it, she stood up and looked in the closest mirror. Rats' nest for hair, bags complementing her worn-out eyes, makeup-less, and in her pajamas, she sighed as she stared reality in the face (or mirror, anyway) and realized it had been another haunting dream. She hadn't had a full hour's sleep in weeks.

She splashed some water on her face (which didn't help the whole lack-of-attractiveness cause at all) to wake herself up more.

_My name is Natara Williams. _She recited in her head slowly. _I am a top FBI agent. I have just been near-killed by my ex-boyfriend, Shawn Mallory. Blaise, Mal and I escaped. Mal Fallon is my partner. Mal…_

Slamming her full-force, her dream came back to her with shocking clarity. But she wasn't marrying Mal. He didn't love her. She couldn't love him…could she? It was dangerous. He probably wouldn't allow himself to admit it even if he did love her nor would she.

Shawn…Ken…

Natara knew what it felt like to lose someone you loved. Mal knew it too. It was…inexplicably awful. A writer's job is to put into words what no one can say, and yet even the most gifted author could in no way describe the feelings associated with losing someone you love, whether to death or another cause, it was harsh. It was painful. It was the worst feeling in the world.

But by denying your feelings, you get that bubble of safety built around you. When the one you love does leave you, you like to believe your protection bubble will bounce you right back. But the truth is, even if you don't realize it until it's too late, you still love them, and they're still gone.

The thing is, experience doesn't come until right after you need it.

On the other hand, Mal Fallon wasn't into being careful and shy. Mal was a risk-taker, and with Natara he was fully prepared to take any risks necessary. And at the moment, though it sounded cheesy, that risk was being rejected.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming," Natara called, blatantly irritated at being bothered when she looked like a dying hobo who hadn't slept or eaten in three weeks.

The pounding on her door persisted, and she ran over and threw the door open, about to tell the person off when she saw Mal standing before her. It wasn't just his presence that stopped her in her tracks however. It was mostly because he looked just as much like a dying hobo as she did. In fact, he looked worse, if that was possible. His commonly tussled hair was standing up in odd places and was, she had to admit, rather disgustingly greasy. His shirt was untucked with multiple stains. All in all, he looked rather filthy.

"Oh…Mal…" she said cautiously. "You've looked…um, better."

"Natara," he reached up and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes closed. "We have to talk."

_***BANG***_

Suddenly, Mal's hand went limp on her face and his eyes rolled back into his head. A small trickle of blood ran down his arm, barely noticeable. Upon closer scrutinization, Natara saw the small bullet-sized hole right near his heart, close enough to strike a major artery. Though her whole world was in slow motion right now, she didn't even have time for a gasp or scream before Mal fell backwards out the door, hitting the ground with a thud of finality, dead. Shawn's raspy laughter filled the horrific silence.

She woke up screaming, tears streaming down her face, to a pounding on the door. Damn. Another nightmare.


End file.
